The Destiny of Ten
by HarmonyPie714
Summary: The sequel to 'My Rise of Nine'. AU. The new Nine have risen and they are ready to do what the old Nine could not. The task ahead of them will not be easy, and Setràkus Ra will combat their every move. But they hold the fate of Lorien in their hands, and they are ready to accept their destiny. Narrated in three parts: Sam, John, and Six. Four/Six throughout, rated T for safety.
1. A New Beginning

**Disclaimer: I am completely, 100%, human. Which means that I am NOT Pittacus Lore. Therefore I do not own any of his creations. So if you are Pittacus Lore, and you are reading this, don't sue me. Please.  
**

**A/N: And we're back! So this introductory chapter picks up right where 'My Rise of Nine' left off, with Sam's POV. Just a note to anybody who has not read 'My Rise of Nine', this is a direct sequel to it, not the real Rise of Nine. So in my story, for example, Eight is a girl, and Five is a boy. Basically, 'My Rise of Nine' is highly recommended reading for this story. Just to clarify.  
**

**Sam:**

Hello.

My name is Sam Goode, and I've decided that being human stinks.

I've come to this conclusion during the last year, within which I've met and befriended a group of very powerful, very cool, aliens.

It's not that there's anything wrong with being human, it's just that compared to being Loric… well, there is no comparison. I mean, who wouldn't want to be able to move things with their mind?

But the worst part about being one of the two humans in a group of teenage aliens? The fact that you have to sit there and watch them flirt with each other, all the while cursing the difficulties of inter-species relationships.

Now some of you might think I don't have it that badly. After all, there's got to be a couple hundred million girls my age on this planet. But I've seen some Loric girls first-hand, and let me tell you- they don't make girls like that on Earth (no offense to Sarah).

But anyways- me, Sarah, and the remainder of the Loric are currently being driven by John to Melbourne airport, where at Nine's insistence, we're going to take a plane out of the country.

We're not sure what country we want to go to, but I'm hoping it's somewhere new. If we're going to fight an interplanetary war, we might as well become well traveled while we're doing it, right?

I look over at Sarah, who's sitting next to me in the back seat of the truck. She should know the perils of human-Loric relationships better than anyone, but that doesn't seem to be discouraging her from trying to chat up Five.

If she can do it, then why can't I?

As it turns out, Sarah's main competition for Five's attentions at the moment is… Eight.

And I remember why I've been having so much trouble.

Five.

He has got to be the luckiest, most despicable alien in history. First off, the guy is blessed with obscenely good looks that pretty much anybody would kill for. And then as if that weren't enough, he can magically toy with people's emotions to the extent that they're throwing themselves at him.

Another reason why being human stinks.

Eight's back is to me, her shoulder-length blonde hair catching the sun's rays and appearing almost golden. I can't see her face, but I know her deep, chocolate-brown eyes are focused on the undeserving Five.

Man, she's beautiful. Sure, maybe she's not that great in a fight, but who am I to talk? I don't even have my magic sword anymore. And she's nice, has a cute personality, and if I ever built up the nerve to tell her a joke, probably has a great sense of humour.

And the laugh to go with it.

But she's Loric. And Five's Loric. And I'm not.

It really stinks being human, doesn't it?

The truck suddenly comes to a stop, and I realize we've arrived at Melbourne Airport. John takes his hands off the steering wheel, leans back in the driver's seat, and looks over, rather obviously, at Six.

But she, like Sarah and Eight, has spent the last two hours fixated on Five. It's amazing Six didn't get a stiff neck, looking over her shoulder for the whole drive.

I would feel bad for John- as Five's arrival has thrown Six for the same loop Eight has, if the guy weren't freaking Loric. At least he can reasonably compete with Five in some departments- all I have is an obsession with aliens and a goofy grin. Plus Sarah's with us now too, so John pretty much has two chances to score.

"So what country do you guys want to head to?" John asks from up front, snapping the girls out of their fawning.

He is instantly flooded with suggestions- it seems like everybody has a different dream vacation destination.

"France," Marina suggests.

"China," Eight offers.

"Brazil," Five mentions.

Only they all speak at the same time, so it sounds more like 'Frinzil'.

"Where?" John asks, confused. "I can't hear you guys if you all talk at once."

That just sets off another round of debate, only now Six is chipping in in favour of Canada, and Ella wants to go to India as well. John groans, probably wondering how he got himself into this mess.

I really wish we still had Crayton with us. He would know where we _should_ go, instead of just where people want to go.

"Quiet!" Nine snaps from the far left of the truck. His voice cuts through everybody else's, and they fall silent. "We need to go somewhere that's practical. It has to be somewhere new, that the Mogs won't expect us to go to."

My sentiments exactly. I'm glad somebody here knows how to take charge.

"How about Russia?" Sarah asks, surprising everybody. "None of you have been there before, and it's pretty remote. It would make a good place to hide and train."

Nine tilts his head to the side, considering Sarah's words. "I like the things you've mentioned, but I don't think any of us speak Russian."

"Exactly!" Six says triumphantly, her eyes twinkling with the glow of an idea. "That's why I suggested Canada- it's just as remote, and everybody there speaks English."

"So Canada it is?" John confirms.

There's a chorus of yeses from the back, although some of them are reluctant.

"It's too cold in Canada," Five makes the mistake of complaining. "That's why I like Brazil- it's nice and wa—"

Nine turns and glares at him mid-sentence, and he wisely shuts up. I wish I could glare like that- a mute Five would make my life so much easier.

"We have money for tickets, right?" I ask. _Somebody_ needs to keep track of these things, so I might as well start.

Marina nods. "There was a lot in… um- I found some… We'll be fine."

Satisfied that everything's settled, we carefully extricate out stuff from the back and stroll confidently into the terminal, towards the ticket purchase area. It occurs to me as we get there that we should offer Sarah the option to stay relatively uninvolved with this whole thing, and go back home if she wants to. It isn't fair for us to drag her into all of this unwillingly.

"Sarah?" I ask her. "If you want, you can head back home now. We can buy you a ticket to Ohio and you won't have to worry about all of this."

To my surprise, she shakes her head. "I'd rather stay with you guys," she says. "There's nothing left for me back home anyways."

"Are you sure? I'm sure Mark would take care of you if you chose to go back."

"No, really, it's okay," she insists. "I have a feeling that I'm meant to be in this group."

I relent. I just hope she won't regret her decision.

"Nine one-way tickets to Toronto, please," Six says to the ticket agent, who's name-tag reads 'Nellie'.

Nellie, a woman who looks to be in her thirties, looks up from her romance novel to glance at Six.

"Identification, please."

Six looks startled. "Why do I need ID? I'm paying in cash."

"We don't sell tickets to minors," she replies, not even bothering to look up this time. "It's the law, actually."

Six scowls and turns away, and then whips back around, a fierce expression on her face. She looks about ready to kill Nellie, and I'm glad, for once, that Five steps in when he does.

"Easy, Six," he says softly, putting his hand on her shoulder. "I'll handle this from here."

He steps up to the ticket window authoritatively. Nellie looks up again before he even speaks.

"Do you think you could make an exception for me? You see, there's somewhere we urgently need to be."

His voice is layered with several smooth undertones, and I catch a trail of blue light coming from his lips as he speaks. Something about his voice is irresistible, and Nellie melts like putty.

"I think I could, just this once. For you," she adds distantly, handing a pack of newly printed tickets to Five.

"One last thing," Five says, flipping through the tickets. "If anybody asks, we were never here- you never saw us."

Nellie nods absently, already re-engrossed in her book.

"How did you do that?" Six asks, awed, as we present our (fake) passports to customs.

"Lets just say that I can be very persuasive when I want to be," Five says dryly.

As it turns out, Five's emotional finangling was good for first-class seats. We board the plane cautiously, getting some strange looks from fellow passengers. No doubt they're wondering what we're all doing traveling in first class without an adult. Personally, I think we have a pretty good reason.

The others survey all of the passengers from their seats, looking for any undercover Mogs. It must be second nature for them by now after the lives they've spent on the run. But everybody seems to check out okay, and they visibly relax as the main doors of the plane are closed.

I relax as well. I was worried that they would have spies stationed at such a major airport, but if they did, they didn't spot us. Or maybe they just sent everybody they had into battle against us. Either way, we're clear. They shouldn't know we're going to Canada.

Five ended up giving me ticket 4B, which puts me next to John and across the aisle from Sarah and Nine.

I couldn't have been assigned a worse seat. I'm next to the conspiracy theorist, and his ex-girlfriend is sitting across the aisle with the bloodthirsty maniac. Sounds like fun, doesn't it?

As the flight takes off (after about a half-hour of waiting), John seems to be determined to live up to his moniker.

"Did you see what Five did to that poor ticket lady?" he asks me, glancing out of the window as Australia grows smaller beneath us.

"It got us ten first-class tickets," I say neutrally.

"It doesn't seem unnatural to you?" John presses, closing the window shade as we break through the cloud barrier. "She wouldn't sell any tickets to Six, and then Five shows up and bam- we're flying first-class."

I figure I might as well play devil's advocate- everybody needs to be indulged once in a while.

"Are you suggesting that Five used a Legacy to influence the ticket agent?"

"Doesn't it fit? He can read emotions, influence emotions, and make people do whatever he wants!"

"You should really talk quieter," Nine interrupts from across the aisle, "especially when you're conspiring like that."

"John's the one conspiring," I say defensively. "Besides, you only heard us because of your super-hearing anyway."

Nine glances over his shoulder at the seats behind him. "I don't think you have to worry about Five overhearing you," he says, smirking.

"Why?" John asks, beating me to the punch.

"Let's just say he's got his hands full with Six."

John scowls, punching the back of the seat in front of him. The man sitting there turns and gives him a dirty look.

"Sorry," John mutters. "It's just really frustrating, you know," he says, turning to me. "Legacies shouldn't be used this way- not on other Garde."

I've really had about enough of John's moping, even if he has good reason for it. If Five really bothers him that much, then why doesn't he just do something about it instead of spending hours whining about him? I force myself to stay calm. Being irrational won't help my case.

"Why don't you just go confront Five?" I suggest. "Tell him that you don't appreciate what he's doing to your girlfriend."

"What if he just ignores me?" John shoots back. "Or what if I'm wrong and he's not using Legacies after all?"

Why's John so insecure? It's obvious that Five is doing something fishy, even if he's not completely in control of it.

"Just threaten to beat him up or something," I say tiredly, knowing full well that I'm no longer giving good advice. "The girls love that sort of thing."

Yea, I'm a bit of a hypocrite. Five is interfering with my- uh- romantic pursuits as well, and I'm just sitting back and letting it happen. But I have good reason- I'm human, and I doubt Five would take me seriously if I confronted him. So my telling John to go after Five might not be completely altruistic. But so be it. Nobody's perfect. Except for that arrogant Ken doll who's the reason all of this is happening at all.

"Come on, Sam," John says. "I can't beat up another member of the Garde!"

I sigh. "Sorry. Five bothers me just as much as he bothers you. And you're right- he shouldn't be doing what he's doing. But please just confront the guy already. I don't know why you're so worried that something will go wrong."

And with that I close my eyes and block out John's voice.

* * *

_I'm in a city I've never been before. I stand on a busy sidewalk watching people rush by, all apparently with places to be and things to do. All except me. Where am I?_

_One thing is clear- the crowds are picking up, and if I stay here much longer I'll be trampled. That thought in mind, I make my way carefully to the nearest building- a small café with a bustling patio. By some miracle, though, there's a single unoccupied table for two near the back. I make a beeline for it, elbowing my way past a sudden mass of people that seem to want it as well. I relax as I sit down in the chair, knowing that now I have time just to figure out where I am and how I got here. I pick up the menu, but it certainly doesn't help. Apparently I'm sitting at the 'Marigold' café, but there's no city or address listed. I really can't understand why this place is so busy- the menu doesn't seem to be anything special. _

"_What do you want?"_

_The waitress' voice jolts me out of my stupor. I look up, and to my surprise, I recognize her. The waitress is Six, albeit wearing an awful-looking outfit and with a bored expression on her face. The same pitch-black hair, the haunting hazel eyes- it's her all right. But what is she doing here? And why doesn't she recognize me?_

"_Well?" she asks, tapping her foot impatiently. "If you're not going to order something, then give your table to somebody who will." _

_I look back out on to the street, and sure enough, there's a line of people waiting there. And at the head of it is Five, looking as perfect as always. He looks right at me, but gives no sign of acknowledgement. Something's not right here. But I have to stay- where else would I go?_

"_I'll just have a blueberry muffin," I say absently to waitress-Six, who snatches my menu from my hands and walks away. _

"_She's in a mood today, isn't she?" a voice says from behind me._

_I turn to look at the source of the voice, and somehow I'm not surprised that it's Eight. _

"_What are you doing here?" I ask, probably pointlessly._

_Eight smiles, and something inside of me warms to the sight. "I'm here a lot," she says. "In fact, it's kind of my place."_

"_Then what am I doing here?"_

_She laughs, and her laugh is exactly like I've imagined it. "You're here to see me, of course."_

"_Er…great," I say. "But where's everybody else then?"_

"_Everybody else? Who do you mean?"_

"_You know," I respond, trying hard not to let my frustration grow, "John, Sarah, Nine- the others."_

"_Who are those people?"_

_I'm about to go crazy when waitress-Six returns, plopping my muffin down unceremoniously in front of me. _

"_Here's your muffin," she says unnecessarily. And then she's gone again, before I can check if she remembers the others. _

_I look back at Eight, intending to drag some kind of explanation out of her, but she's vanished as suddenly as she appeared. Sighing, I take a bite of the lonely blueberry muffin lying in front of me. Then everything fades away._

* * *

_I'm dreaming. The realization comes to me suddenly, and it sure explains a lot. I replay the rapidly disappearing details of my dream in my head, and it's almost funny in a sad sort of way. I really do have weird dreams these days._

_But then I realize- I haven't woken up yet. I'm still dreaming. _

_A light suddenly appears to my right, illuminating my surroundings. I make my way towards it, and find myself at the top of a large, circular room. Steps lead down to the floor, where there's a basin of a silvery liquid. _

_My curiosity draws me to the basin. But as I get closer, I realize that I'm not alone. A figure cloaked in shadow stands with its back to me, watching the basin. The liquid in the basin ripples softly as I tread closer to it. It looks like mercury, almost, but that doesn't make any sense. _

_I keep walking anyways. Even if it is mercury, it can't harm me in a dream. I come to a stop just behind the figure, which still hasn't noticed me. But when I look at it from this angle, it isn't just hidden by the shadows. It is a shadow. It seems to flicker, almost, in the light, and I get the feeling that under the bright glare of daylight, it would vanish completely. But here, in this dark room, it is very much real._

_As I watch, it extends its hands over the liquid and begins to chant in a language that I can't make heads or tails of. And as the chant grows louder, the liquid in the basin begins to rise upwards, into the air. It hovers there, and then slowly clumps together into a sphere about the size of a basketball. _

_The chant continues, and the liquid responds, forming into a different shape with every word. A book. A beach. A box. And then it settles on one. A dagger. The silvery dagger revolves slowly, end-over-end, and then comes to a stop with the tip pointing straight down. _

_The chant intensifies and the dagger starts to glow with a fierce metallic light. But then suddenly, at what seems like such a climactic moment, the chant stops. The liquid loses its shape, splashing back into the basin, where it no longer glows. _

_The figure reaches down to the pool and scoops up a small amount of the liquid. It coats his hand like a silvery glove, and hardens into what looks like solid metal. Then the figure spins around, and points the coated hand at me. I dive out of the way reflexively, but nothing happens. The figure looks confused, and I wonder at what it was trying to do. It seemed malicious, though, so I take advantage of its confusion, stepping forward to close the gap between us. I punch it squarely in the jaw, my fist connecting solidly despite the figure's transparency, and it crumples to the ground. _

_That's when I wake up. _

* * *

I open my eyes at the same time as John, who blinks confusedly next to me.

"Well that was weird," he says.


	2. Crimes Against Humanity

**A/N: Here's the next installment of this sequel story for you guys. Sorry for the split POVs in this one, but I felt both Four and Six had important roles in this chapter. I'm hoping to be able to continue to update roughly once a week, but I'll have to see how school goes for me. Anyways, I hope you enjoy this chapter.**

Four:

"What?" Sam asks me, having just woken himself.

"Never mind," I say. "It was just a dream."

It was a dream I've had before, though. In fact, the last time I had it was also on a plane- the one we took to Australia in the first place. It was the one where me and Six are in a Mog base, looking for something, and then it turns out that we're in the wrong place, and then Six goes off with Nine to fight Setràkus Ra and I can't come because… Well, you get the idea.

Except that this time, it was Five who appeared instead of Nine. And the really weird part? Just as the dream was nearing the part where I'm swarmed with Mogs, my vision filled with static and I woke up. It was like the dream was interrupted or something. It was still just as unnerving though- the icy look of Six's eyes, and then her subsequent betrayal- it struck a little too close to home, especially given current events.

I check my watch, only to find that I wasn't asleep for more than an hour or so. Joy. Twenty more hours to go until we land. That shouldn't be at all boring.

Crayton's briefcase sits underneath the seat in front of me, its combination lock reflecting the overhead light into my eyes. It feels like it's taunting me. I want nothing more than to power up the laptop that lies inside of it and look through the files it contains. I'm sure there's one there with my name on it, with all sorts of information that Crayton thought would be useful to me. He probably knew the Elder I am destined to replace- maybe he could tell me about him or her, so I know whose shoes I'll have to fill. Maybe there's information about my Legacies- really interesting or powerful ways for me to use them. Or maybe the information there is of a more personal nature. There might be details there about my parents, about Bernie Kosar- nothing overly important, but just stuff that it'd be nice to know. I bend down to pick up the briefcase and set it on my lap. I let my hand run over the dials, casually turning them to 1-3-1-5- no, I can't. It wouldn't be fair for me to look before the others. I'm sure they're just as curious about what's in their files. I reluctantly let the briefcase go, placing it back under the seat.

Sam's been watching me the whole time, and I wonder what he's thinking.

"Tempting, isn't it?" Sam asks, trying to keep a smile off of his face.

"Yea," I say. "It's just… it seemed like he knew so much that he never told us, and I can't help but wonder what's in there. I mean, it could be anything, right?"

There's no response. Sam's already fallen back asleep, snoring loudly. How does he do that?

I figure I might as well follow his example, so I close my eyes, but all I see when I do is the icy gaze of the Six in my dream.

I know, of course, that that isn't what Six actually looks like. As Eight told me, having learned from Nine, it's Phobos, one of the lieutenants of Setràkus Ra, who manufactures these dreams. He does it to sow the seeds of fear in our minds, to try to make us doubt both ourselves and each other. It sounds silly, now, in the light of day, but in a dream, it's different. You don't know you're dreaming, so each time you experience a dream, it's like it's the first time.

I look over my shoulder at Five, who's sleeping. Six is asleep as well, her head resting comfortably on his shoulder.

A surge of anger rushes through me, settling somewhere in my stomach. I'm sorely tempted to reach over, grab Five around the neck, shake him awake, and then tell him what I think about how he's using his Legacies, but I can't. I'd probably get arrested for assault.

"That's exactly what it felt like, you know."

Sarah's voice comes from my right- I had almost forgotten she was still here. She sits alone- Nine must have wandered off somewhere while I was sleeping.

"It's not easy, is it?" Sarah continues. "Kind of ironic, too."

It's funny, because I'd never really noticed how cold Sarah can be when she wants to. Even during the whole FBI thing, she seemed more emotional- not as detached as she sounds now.

"Sarah," I say, sighing, "all due respect, but the situations are a little bit different. Five's using a Legacy on her- that's the only reason she's like that."

"Oh!" she says, surprise breaking through her emotional barrier. She restores it quickly. "I didn't realize. It's funny, because I used to think that she was using a Legacy on you. I thought that that was the only reason you would ever choose another girl over me. You know, after all that stuff you said about love. I'm sure not going to make the mistake of trusting you again. Not after you betrayed me like that."

She sounds hurt now. Spiteful, but hurt. And I realize that the past few weeks must have been pretty tough on her. Now that I think about it, I'm impressed by how well she's handled everything. The battle, Crayton's death, even Nine's tactless pronouncement that her parents would be dead by now. But I always knew she had a resilient spirit. That's the Sarah I know.

And if I think about it clearly, and force myself to be honest, I can kind of understand why she did what she did. In her eyes, she had to make a choice between me and her parents. And it's not like I helped my case between stumbling over her questions about Six.

I make an instinctive decision. I unbuckle my seatbelt, slide past Sam and across the aisle to Nine's vacant seat. I look Sarah straight in the eye as I speak, my face not six inches from hers.

"I really am sorry, Sarah," I say. "I… I honestly never meant to hurt you."

A single tear trickles from her right eye and down the side of her nose. She wipes it off with her hand, sniffling.

"I'm sorry too," she says, after a moment. "I should have realized earlier that things between us weren't going to work out. And… I should have warned you, that night. I was just- well, too upset with you at the time.

"Apology accepted. On one condition- that you become friends with Six. There's no need for you two to hate each other."

Sarah nods. "I'll try," she says. "Which reminds me, I was talking to her the other night. And John, it isn't her fault. She truly doesn't realize how she acts around Five."

I figured that much already, but it's certainly nice to have confirmation. I feel a lot better now- and I can understand how Sam was annoyed with me for being so insecure. If our places had been reversed, I would have been frustrated too.

"Should I just talk to her then, once we land?"

"I think that's the right choice," Sarah says, a hint of a smile on her lips.

"Good. And… thanks, Sarah. You've taken a load off of my shoulders."

"What are friends for?"

"Just do me one favour, okay?" I ask, pulling her into a hug. "Be happy."

She nods confidently to me once we break apart, and I head back to my seat.

"So you'll take her advice but not mine?" Sam jokes.

"Somebody's a light sleeper," I comment. "But yes, basically. You were right in the first place, though. And sorry for being so difficult about the whole Five thing. I know what to do now."

"Good," Sam says. "So what exactly are you going to say to him?"

"I don't know exactly, but probably just something like 'I know you're using a Legacy on her, and I don't appreciate it, so knock it off.'"

"And you'll make sure he doesn't use it on anybody else, right?"

"I guess so, but Six is my priority."

"Hopefully he'll get the message," Sam says, looking unusually content. I follow his eyes to the back of Eight's head and know why he's so happy. I just hope he doesn't get burned, playing with fire like that. Humans and Loric really aren't meant to be together. But it's his choice, and I can't begrudge him that.

I put my problems out of my mind and close my eyes. Once again, I see the face of dream-Six. But now I know what to do. I focus, and the face splits into two, one floating in each side of my vision. Six's face is on the left, her black hair and hazel eyes a reassuring sight. And Sarah is on the right, smiling at me, looking just like she did on the day I first met her.

They both have roles to play- both in this war, and in my life. Different roles, yes, but they're both important ones.

My last thought before I fall asleep is that I'm no longer scared of the dreams that may come from Phobos. They no longer have any power over me.

Indeed, my sleep is dreamless.

**Six:**

I open my eyes with a yawn. My limbs feel like rubber- I lift my head off of Five's shoulder and stretch until I get my circulation going.

"How long was I asleep?" I ask Five, who for some reason looks worried.

"Long enough that I was starting to worry," he says, his brow furrowed with concern. "How are you feeling?"

"Really good, actually," I say truthfully. "I think I needed the sleep."

"You must have- you were out for almost twenty hours. I was going to wake you, but you just seemed so peaceful I couldn't."

"Thanks," I say. "Sorry for falling asleep on you, by the way. You must have been uncomfortable." He shakes his head. "Don't worry about it- I was fine. I only woke up a few hours ago myself."

"So you don't mind if I do this then?" I ask, shifting as close to him as my seatbelt allows and snuggling up against him.

"Err… no," he says, looking uncomfortable.

I really wish he'd get used to me flirting with him already. I mean, it's like he's never seen a girl before. I guess I'll just have to keep at it.

"Good," I say. "Because I intend to stay like this until we land."

It's at that moment that the pilot's voice comes loudly over the intercom, startling me into sitting up.

"You were saying?" Five asks with a raised eyebrow.

I roll my eyes and then turn my attention to the pilot's voice.

"—our final descent now, and we should be touching down in about ten minutes."

I reluctantly re-buckle my seatbelt in preparation for landing. My stomach rumbles as I lean back in my first-class eat, and I suddenly realize I'm starving. I haven't eaten since breakfast yesterday, and I'm actually starting to feel weak. It's not a familiar feeling, and I'd like to keep it that way. We had better go for dinner- or breakfast- or lunch (I really have no clue what time it is anymore) as soon as we land. I don't think I could even fight off a kraul in my current state.

I eventually decide that I had better strike up another conversation with Five- he needs to get used to me as soon as possible.

"So why did you want to go to Brazil so much?" I ask him.

"Oh… no reason really. Me and Alexis spent a couple of months there a while back and I had a great time. It was just so nice there, what with the weather, and the beaches, and the g…" he trails off suddenly, as if remembering something. I pounce on it.

"Must have been a lot of good-looking girls there," I say casually.

"Yea," he says. "I should know- I spent enough time at the beach."

"There was one in particular though, right?"

I'm taking a calculated gamble here. If I'm right, then I'll have some competition to size up.

"I'd really rather not talk about it right now."

He turns away from me to emphasize his point, electing instead to look through the illustrated safety booklet in the seat pocket. The plane touches down a few minutes later without a hitch, and soon we've come to a stop outside of the terminal. Five grabs his stuff silently and I follow suit, doing a quick head count to make sure we haven't lost anybody. Once we get off the plane we have to walk for what seems like a mile down a narrow, glass-paneled hallway before we reach customs. Thankfully, there isn't a line and an official on the far right waves us over right away.

"I'm sorry, but the group of you will have to come with me," he says, frowning, after scanning my passport. "The computer has selected you for a random secondary screening."

I glance quickly at Nine, who nods reassuringly and mouths 'We're fine."

The customs officer leads us over to an unmarked door at the side of the terminal, pushing it open for us.

"Just through here, please," he says.

Oddly enough, when the door closes behind us we're in a narrow alleyway, outside the building. There doesn't seem to be anybody else here.

"Where are we?" Marina asks.

She's answered by a flurry of bullets that ping off the wall just above our heads.

"Get down on your stomachs with your hands on your heads!" a voice demands through a megaphone. "This is INTERPOL!"


	3. Council of War

**A/N: Sorry about the delay here, but I'm really not that far off my update a week target. A bit of a summary chapter here, just kind of putting a slight pause on the action to hash out some plot. Again, my apologies for the delay (I hate writer's block!), and I hope you all enjoy.**

Four:

All of us do as requested, hitting the dirt. All of us except Nine. He remains standing, arms folded, just daring the police to shoot at him. Let it never be said that INTERPOL backed down from a dare. Nine reacts to the sound of the bullets with incredible speed, forming a blue barrier in front of him to deflect them. I jump up as well, and help him with a shield of my own. Before long the six of us have formed a shield that spans the width of the alleyway. Ella, Sam and Sarah trail behind, and we're careful to angle our shields so that they're protected. We carefully advance down the alleyway, but when we come to its end we still can't see the people firing at us. Then we look up. There's a dilapidated, two-story building in front of us, with a squad of gunmen on the roof. They keep loosing rounds at us, and I can't figure out why they're wasting their bullets.

A sudden hissing noise comes from near my feet, and I look down to see a gas grenade sitting there, spewing something noxious. I quickly throw it up onto the roof where the gunmen are. See how they like it. But then it occurs to me- where did it come from? I've kept my eyes on the roof the full time, and it wasn't from up there.

A shooting pain erupts through the back of my leg, and I lose my train of thought. Then it magnifies tenfold and I can't support my weight anymore. I crumple to the ground, with the sudden realization that I've been shot.

I look around frantically for Bernie Kosar and the other Chimæra, but they're nowhere to be found. What a bunch of cowards.

"It's an ambush!" Five yells, rather uselessly.

I look behind us to see another squad of soldiers, wearing gas masks and leveling rifles at us. The others quickly spin their shields around to protect them, but Sam, Sarah and Ella are caught in the crossfire. All three of them are hit almost immediately. Thankfully they don't seem to be fatal shots, but they'll be incapacitated for a while.

The others spread out in the alleyway, forming a circle around me, Sam, Sarah and Ella. With just five of them, it's difficult for them to maintain the barrier. Then suddenly Marina darts towards me, grabs my hand and Sam's, and the air around me folds, spins, and we're standing on the tarmac, near where our plane landed. Marina quickly pushes us inside via a nearby door, which leads to a thankfully deserted corridor of the terminal. She takes a quick look at our wounds, and shakes her head.

"I can't do anything until the bullets come out," she says. "I'll be back in a second."

And then she's gone again.

"Where were you hit?" I ask Sam, who's grimacing in pain.

"Shoulder," he grunts, showing the wound to me.

I make a quick decision- we're going to need to run as soon as Marina returns with the others, and if we're still wounded we'll slow down the group. And there's only one way for us to heal in time.

"This might hurt just a little bit," I say to Sam.

"What might?"

"Never mind. Just… look that way."

He complies. I focus my mental energy on the bullet I know to be underneath his skin, and force it to come back out again. Sam screams in pain as it shoots back out and into my hand.

"Here's a souvenir for you," I say, handing him the twisted lump of metal. He turns it over in his hand before stowing it safely in his pocket.

Now for the tough part. I grit my teeth and pull the bullet out in one smooth motion. It definitely hurts, but it's not nearly as bad as I was expecting from Sam's reaction.

"Was it really that bad?" I ask Sam, who mutters something about Garde and high pain tolerances.

Marina reappears in the middle of the room with Sarah and Ella. All three girls look pretty tired, but thankfully they seem okay.

"It's not looking good," Marina says as she heals Sam. "They've captured the others. I'll head back, but I'm not sure if I'll be able to rescue them."  
She then moves to me, placing her hands on my leg. A pleasant warm feeling rushes through by body, and my wound knits itself closed.

"Thanks," I say. I hop to my feet, rummaging through my pocket. It takes me a moment to find what I'm looking for- the smooth stone wrapped in cloth. I give the charged Xitharis to Marina, being careful not to touch it directly. "You'll need this," I say.

"What is it?"

"It's Xitharis- a piece of rock from Lorien's first moon. It can be charged with a Legacy, and then another one of the Garde who's holding the stone can use the Legacy. Six charged this one with invisibility a couple of days ago. It should make things a lot easier."

Marina reaches out to pluck the stone from my hand and vanishes immediately.

"Cool," she says. "I hope this works."

'Me too,' I think. And then she's gone. I walk over to Sarah and Ella, who sit slumped against the wall of the corridor.

"I would say this isn't going to hurt," I say to Sarah, "but unfortunately that would be a lie."

She nods bravely, looking away from the bullet hole in her arm. I yank the bullet out as smoothly and quickly as I can, and it comes out cleanly. She bites down on the inside of her lip, but doesn't cry out.

"Good job," I say.

Then I move to Ella. I have to say, I feel like I'm starting to get the hang of this. Being a field surgeon is a whole lot easier when you have telekinesis. Ella, however, looks extremely apprehensive. She backs away from me as I approach, keeping her injured shoulder away from me.

"It's really not that bad," I say encouragingly to Ella, hoping to coax her close enough to me for me to remove the bullet.

"You just told Sarah it was going to hurt," she says nervously, keeping her distance from me.

Thankfully Sarah's there to back me up.

"There's nothing to be scared of, Ella," she says, reaching out to grab her hand. "It'll be over before you know it. And then Marina can fix you up, and you'll be all better."

Ella still looks nervous, but lets me approach. Sarah starts to distract her with a story, and I pull the bullet out without her even noticing.

I start to head back over to Sam when I stumble directly into Six, who along with Marina and Eight, have suddenly materialized in the middle of the hallway. All three of them are heavily bruised, and there's a nasty gash across Marina's cheek.

"Are you okay?" I ask Six, pulling her into a quick hug.

"Yea, I'm fine," she says distractedly. And then in a more concerned voice: "Are you fully healed yet? The bullet and everything?"

I nod. "Marina took care of it."

"Here's your Xitharis back," Marina cuts in, tossing me the stone.

"Don't you need it still?" I ask, puzzled.

Marina shakes her head. "Not anymore."

"But what about Nine? And Five?"

This time it's Eight who chimes in. "They've taken them away already in a helicopter. Marina just barely got to us in time."

I frown. Eight doesn't sound very concerned that a third of the Garde left alive have just been kidnapped. But regardless, we need to get going. There's no way we can rescue Five and Nine at the moment, and if we hang around we might get captured as well. I move quickly to the door, pushing it open slightly and looking out onto the tarmac. There are plenty of people rushing around, but that's a risk we'll have to take. There's a forest on the other side of the pavement that we can lose any pursuers in, and besides, we can't stay here forever.

"We're clear," I say to the others, who were looking at me expectantly. I have to say, I'm sorry Nine's been captured, but it's kind of nice to feel like a leader again. Like I actually have a role to play in this whole thing, and I'm not just another number.

We dash out across the tarmac on my count, navigating out way carefully to the other side. I'm sure we've been spotted a hundred times en-route, but it doesn't matter. I lead us quickly into the forest and I know we'll be safe there.

"What now?" Ella asks me as we jog.

"I have no clue," I pant, stepping nimbly over a fallen tree. "Somewhere where we can rest for now, and then plan some kind of rescue. But frankly, I don't really care exactly where we go."

We eventually make out way onto a main street, slowing to a walk and transforming our Chests into less conspicuous luggage. It's a shame we don't have our real luggage, thanks to INTERPOL. And frankly, given how little I know about my Inheritance, I'm not sure I wouldn't trade it for the mundane stuff sitting on a baggage carousel back at the airport. That reminds me- we'll have to go shopping for clothes and stuff soon. Or more accurately, me and Sam will send the girls shopping.

As soon as we cross the city line and get out of Toronto, I start looking for a hotel. Well, more like a motel. A cheap one, preferably. I'm not even sure if we have enough money for a Super Eight, given how expensive our plane tickets cost.

After about five minutes we come to a stop in front of a Quality Inn. I glance over at Marina, who gives me a tentative nod. It's a shame that our standards have dropped so low, but there's nothing we can do about it.

Inside, the check-in desk accepts my fake ID without question. They look at us questioningly, especially when I request three rooms, but we have the cash to pay. Barely- tomorrow will be a different story.

When we get upstairs to our rooms, Eight and Ella crash immediately. I'm just as tired, but I know I can't sleep yet. Six and Marina are on the verge of leaving for their room when I stop them.

"Could you guys just stay for a few minutes?" I ask. "There's some stuff we need to talk about."

They sit down on the chairs, leaving me to sit on the bed and Sam to pace anxiously.

"What is this?" Six asks. "A council of war?"

I shrug. "Kind of. I'm just feeling kind of lost with what's going on and wanted to touch base with you guys. It's been a tough couple of days."

"First priority is Nine and Five," Sam says, swiveling to face us. "Without them, everything else will be a lot more difficult."

"True," Six says, "but it'll be pretty difficult to rescue them. We have absolutely no clue where they're being held. Seeing as they're considered terrorists, they'll be under extremely heavy guard. Even if we could somehow break into whatever secure facility they're in, we'd probably have to kill a good dozen people to get to them. And then we'd have to get back out again. I mean, yea, we could do it, but it would be risky. The fact that they were able to capture them means they know about us and what we can do. They'll be ready for somebody invisible, or somebody teleporting, or any other tricks we have up our sleeves. And it's not like we have that many tricks anyways, considering we'll be fighting indoors, on their turf. If we lose any more people, we're pretty much done for."

Marina shakes her head. "What's the alternative then? Leave them there? Hope INTERPOL takes mercy on them and lets them go? They'll be keeping them hopped up on drugs the whole time; something that makes them drowsy enough that they can't use Legacies, and truth serum to boot. They could well end up spilling info about us that'll cost us dearly. And besides, do we really stand any chance against Setràkus Ra without Nine? We still don't know which one of us is going to become Pittacus, and until one of us starts gushing Legacies from their ears, Nine's our best fighter by far."

"You're both right," Sam says. "We absolutely need to get them back, but we can't accept the risk a rescue attempt would entail. Although, I suppose if we knew where they were, we could plan something that would have a better chance to succeed."

"That's the thing, though," Six says emphatically. "We don't know. It's not like we can just raid every government base in the country and hope we get lucky."

"Wait a minute," Marina says. "We might be able to find out where they are. Can't you communicate with Nine telepathically, John?"

"I can, but I doubt it would work. Like you said, they'll be on Legacy-suppressing drugs."

"Just… try it anyway, okay? Worst-case scenario we're just back to square one."

I close my eyes and open my mind to the energy pulse I've come to recognize as Nine's. When I find it, I send a simple message: "Where are you?"

I sense that the message was sent successfully, but as I expected, there's no response.  
"No dice," I say. "Square one it is."

"Okay then," Sam says. "Lets move on for now. Regardless of what we're going to do long-term, we've got other problems right now. Correct me if I'm wrong, Marina, but we don't have enough money to stay here tomorrow. We still have no real idea how we're supposed to get the bomb to the barracks planet, we don't know which one of us is going to become Pittacus, and you know nothing about your Inheritances."

"In terms of cash, we're pretty much out," Marina says. "There are some gems though, left over. I can't say I know much about them, but there's a fair number and they look valuable. We could take them to a jeweler or something, get them appraised."

"What respectable jeweler would buy gems from a bunch of teenagers?" Six asks. "They'd assume we stole them."

I sigh. "Somewhere where they don't ask questions, then. Pawn shop?"

"We'd get ripped off," Sam cautions.

"Still better than nothing," I say. "The fact is, we need cash."

"So once we do that tomorrow we'll have the money for lodging," Six says. "I still think we should try to get a place of our own, though. Somewhere we can rent that won't have people checking up on us everyday. We need a place to train, so we're ready to fight Setràkus Ra once it's time."

"There's no point in fighting him before we detonate the bomb," Sam says. "If we take the fight to him first he'll just call in more reinforcements, and then the bomb won't be as effective. We should review the December Contingency file Crayton left us tomorrow- see what it says about a delivery system for the bomb."

"Alright then," I say. "So our priorities for tomorrow are getting money for the gems, using it to rent a place for a month or so, and reviewing the December Contingency file. If we have a chance to get more info on where Five and Nine might be we should do that too."

"I absolutely agree," a voice says from our left, by the door. "Except that I'd move finding me off of that list of priorities. Especially considering how easy it was for me to find you."


	4. Confrontations

**A/N: Ugh. I am so sorry, guys- it's been far too long since I've found the time to write. I've just been so busy recently that I haven't had the time. I hope you'll all forgive me. Anyway, there are a couple of scenes in this chapter that I've been wanting to write for a long time- the one with Six and Marina, and the one with John and Five. I hope they'll make up for the delay.**

Six:

I spin around. It's Nine standing there, framed dramatically by the doorway, twirling a key card casually between his fingers.

"Nine?" Marina asks, shocked.

"The one and only."

"Seriously?" John exclaims. "I just tried to contact you five minutes ago and you didn't respond. I figured you'd been drugged."

Nine shakes his head. "Actually, I just wanted to see the surprised looks on your faces when I arrived. It's pretty amusing, really."

Sam scowls. "Where's Five? He _is _with you, isn't he?"

"Nah- you see, I was going to bring him, but then he really started to get on my nerves with all of his whining. Last I saw of him, he was huddled up against the wall of the cell trying to plead with the cops, wailing that he was too young to die."

I give him a flat stare. "Really?" I ask pointedly.

"No. He'll be here in a moment- he's just parking the truck. By the way, I don't suggest you ask how we acquired it- it's kind of a long story. Let's just say it involved a very angry priest."

The end of Nine's sentence is treated with a cautious silence. I very much doubt any of us wants to send him off on another tangent, and staying silent seems the safest approach.

"Are you high?" John blurts out suddenly, shattering the silence. I'd laugh if not for the fact that he might be right.

Nine frowns, scratching his chin with his finger as if deep in thought. "Come to think of it, those INTERPOL people did drug me with something before I made my great escape. I've been feeling kind of weird ever since. Although, it's kind of a good feeling at the same time, you know, like my brain is just fl—"

"Oh knock it off," Marina interrupts, standing up and putting her palm on Nine's forehead. He looks at it cross-eyed for a moment before giving up. She takes a deep breath and then exhales, and the edge of her palm glows with a pulsing turquoise light. She steps away after a couple of seconds, looking very self-satisfied. "There. That should take care of anything they left in your system."

The light spreads over Nine's body, turning to an eerie fluorescent green. The veins in his arm pulse noticeably as the light travels through his system. It glows with a sudden intensity, casting his face into shadow before fizzling out. He staggers backwards slightly under some unseen force, and then collapses- directly into Five's conveniently waiting arms.

"Oops," Marina says guiltily, rushing over to help Five lift Nine up onto the bed.

"What happened to him?" a concerned Five asks, closing the door behind him.

"The cops gave him some kind of drug that made him a little loopy," I say. "Marina tried to purge it from his bloodstream, but she was a little overzealous."

"You should probably be healed too," John says to Five. "They likely gave you the same stuff."

"Er…no," Five says, stepping backwards. "That's okay- they never touched me. They must have given it to him when they took him for interrogation- that was the only time he was out of my sight. He came to break me out of my cell shortly after." A frown settles on his face and he begins to tap his foot anxiously. "I should have realized something was wrong with him earlier- his emotional balance was way off."

"So you're saying I was crazy?" Nine says groggily, propping himself up with his elbows.

"Well- not exactly, but…"

"How about now? Am I still emotionally incompetent?"

"You're perfectly balanced," Five says quickly.

"Good. I'd hate to be psycho."  
Apparently satisfied that he's okay, Nine springs to his feet.

"Anyways, back to the reason I let myself get captured in the first place. While they we—"

"Woah there. Hold up a second," Five interrupts. "You let yourself get captured? Why would you do something stupid like that?"

"Of course I let them capture me," Nine says, slightly miffed. "You honestly thought that a little squad of humans actually overcame me in combat? Honestly… I thought you just caught on and did the same."

With my enhanced vision I can just make out the subtle tightening of one of the tendons in Sam's neck. He catches me looking at him and shoots me a quick smile.

I'm starting to remember why I found Nine so annoying when we first met. His ego is the size of Lorien, and he assumes that everybody thinks the same way he does. Five is starting to look frustrated, so I decide to intervene before he says something stupid.

"Besides how amazingly brilliant you are, do you actually have a point?"

Five's eyes find mine, gratitude evident in their unexplored sea-green depths. There always seems to be something different about his eyes every time I look- which is more often than I'd care to admit. I could stare into them for the rest of my life and never grow bored. But Five breaks the spell, turning his head away shyly.

"Point is," Nine's voice drones, bringing me back to reality, "while they were chasing me around their base and trying to stop me from escaping, I paid a little visit to their central computer banks. And the stuff I found there is bad. Really bad."

He stops dramatically, as if waiting for somebody to ask cheesily: "How bad?" None of us do.

He takes a deep breath and then drops his bombshell regardless. "The government is working with the Mogs."

Stunned silence. Don't we know that already?

"Since when is that news?" I ask doubtfully.

"Not just the American government," Nine continues. "The world government- or at least, as close to a world government as actually exists. From what the INTERPOL files said, the Mogs revealed themselves at a U.N meeting about a week ago. The whole 'we come in peace' bit and everything. The Mogs said, truthfully, that they were on Earth in pursuit of us. But they claimed that we were Mogadorians too- in fact, that we were very dangerous terrorists who had fled to Earth to try to evade the long arm of justice. They talked the U.N into both giving them interplanetary jurisdiction to pursue us, and to enlist the help of INTERPOL."

"How?" Marina asks. "Didn't they realize how evil the Mogs are?"

Nine shrugs. "I honestly don't know exactly how they did it. They would have sent civilians to negotiate, not soldiers, so they would have looked pretty humanoid. Humans are always more empathic towards people who look like them. And then if there was still any doubt surrounding their motives, they would have just plied them with advanced technology. A big enough bribe and they would have been willing to do anything."

"Well that's just perfect, isn't it?" Sam says sarcastically. "All we needed were more people chasing after us. You know," he says, suddenly dangerously angry, "I can't believe they're keeping this all hush-hush. People have been wondering for centuries if there was other intelligent life in the universe. And now when actual proof exists of other advanced civilizations, it'll just get covered up and shunted into Area 51 to become another conspiracy theory."

I don't think I've ever seen Sam this angry before. Not when John showed him the letter that Henri had left, that said that Sam's dad was still alive. Not when John and Nine left him to rot in West Virginia. Not even when he walked in on me and John kissing back in Australia. Sam's anger is the fierce outrage of the betrayed. He's spent most of his life since his father was kidnapped studying every crackpot theory and conspiracy plot known to man in the desperate hope of discovering if it was aliens who had abducted his dad. And now that one of those crazy theories from the publishers of 'They Walk Among Us'- the one about the Mogadorians hunting down teenagers for no apparent reason- has turned out to be true, the people who have the proof aren't sharing it with the world. To Sam it's the ultimate betrayal of everything his life used to be, and I can only imagine his frustration. I've been fortunate, in a way- nobody has ever truly stabbed me in the back and left me to die, cursing their name. But that doesn't mean that I'm not destined to become Caesar- just that Brutus' plot isn't finished yet.

"Well, we've got a busy day tomorrow," Marina says, yawning. "I don't know about you guys, but I'm going to need my sleep."

She pushes the connecting door open and heads through it, mumbling a hasty 'Goodnight'. I reluctantly follow her, looking wistfully over my shoulder as I leave.

I see John nod very deliberately to Sam, who coughs and says, "Boy, it's cold in here. I'm going to go see if they have any extra blankets in the lobby." Then he clears out, leaving just John, Five and Nine.

I close the door behind me and flop onto my bed, utterly spent. Marina sits at the desk, her back to me, scribbling intently into a dark leather notebook.

"What'cha doing?" I ask curiously, kicking off my shoes and wiggling my toes inside my socks.

"Just some writing," she says firmly, not letting her attention waver from the task at hand.

"Cool," I say. "You keeping a diary?"

I know I shouldn't pry, but I've always been too curious for my own good. That's what Katarina told me when I was little, anyway.

"It was a gift," Marina says simply. She continues: "Ella gave it to me for my 17th, back while I was still in Spain. I've used it ever since."

"Don't tell me I missed your birthday!" I say anxiously, sitting up. "I would have gotten you something."

"Don't worry about it. It's no big deal anyway."

"Of course it's a big deal!" I say indignantly. "It means that you've outwitted the Mogs and survived another year on the run. If that isn't worth celebrating then I don't know what is."

"Yea- I guess."

Birthdays have always been really important to me, because they're how I measure my success as one of the Nine- each time the 24th of April rolls around and I become a year older, I take it as a huge event. It means that I've beaten the odds by surviving- again. Of course, I've celebrated my birthdays alone for the last few years, but I'd still go out and buy (or steal) a small cake and enjoy myself. I'm actually really looking forward to my birthday this year, because I'll be able to celebrate it with John and Sam and the others.

"C'mon," I say. "Just tell me when your birthday is so I'll know for next year."

"If there is a next year," she mumbles quietly.

I frown. "What do you mean if there's a next year? That's no way to think about things."

"It's called realism, Six," Marina says, turning to face me for the first time. "There are nine of us. Nine. More like seven, since Sarah and Ella aren't much use in a fight. Look what they've done to us already. They've taken the people we loved most- our Cèpans- away from us. And they'll do the same to us as soon as we make a mistake. It's bound to happen eventually, no matter how much we train. We're not perfect. It could be six months from now. It could be a week. It could be _tomorrow, _Six. Doesn't that scare you?"

The sheer pessimism emanating from the corner of the room shocks me. How can she cope with life if every day she wakes up wondering if today will be the end? If every time she closes her eyes at night she prays that maybe- just maybe, her throat won't be cut as she sleeps. I like to think of myself as a realist and a pragmatist who isn't easily swayed by hope or despair, but listening to Marina talk I realize just how optimistic I really am. And I realize that I have no clue how to handle somebody who doesn't think the way I do.

Marina seems to take my silence as surrender to her logic, looking resigned to the fact that there's no escaping her inevitable fate.

"If you're interested," she says, "they're talking about you in there." She gestures towards the room we just left- the room where John, Five and Nine are.

That's odd- I'm standing even closer to the door than Marina is, and I didn't hear anything. And why am I coming up in their conversation anyway?

"What are they saying about me?" I ask, realizing that I am encouraging Marina's eavesdropping.

"Go listen for yourself if you're so interested," she says, resuming her writing.

"I really shouldn't," I say, taking a step towards the door and trying to stop myself from rushing to press my ear against it.

"Oh go on," she says. "A girl's got to have some fun, right? After all, you only live once." She looks up and gives me a weak, watery smile. It scares me to no end.

But I take her advice anyway, pressing my ear carefully to the grain of the wood-paneled door and beginning to listen intently. I'm expecting to hear standard guy talk- vulgarities and all. Considering Nine's presence in the room, maybe I'll even learn some new slang. But what I hear is completely different. And even more important.

"—_hot, isn't she?" _

I place the voice immediately as Five's. He's got a fairly pronounced Australian accent from all of his years living near Canberra.

"_Believe me, I know. Speaking of Six, there's something I've been wanting to talk to you about."_

Another voice that I'll never forget. John's. I wonder vaguely if Nine is still in there with them, or if he's joined Sam in the quest for blankets.

"_What is it?" Five asks, the slightest tang of apprehension in his voice._

"_Well it's kind of about your Legacies, actually," John says. "When we first met you said something about being good with emotions, right? Like an empath?"_

"_Correct. One of my Legacies is the ability to read and analyze emotions in a way far superior to normal humans," Five says robotically, as if reading from a teleprompter or rattling off lines from memory._

"_Right," John says._

I detect something new in the way he says that one word. It feels sort of like a combination of satisfaction and jealousy, but there's a kick of something else. Something… predatory.

"_And ever since you joined up with us," John continues, the pace of his speech increasing, "I've noticed that Six has been acting just the slightest bit weird."_

I'm the one that's been acting weird? Me? I'm the only sane one in this place, for Lorien's sake. John's the one who's been all 'Are you feeling all right?' every time I see him. Not to mention Marina's pessimism, or Eight's absurd naïveté, or even Nine's disturbing lust for violence. But Five's responding, so I put my thoughts on hold.

"_How so?" Five asks, the tang of apprehension having grown into a splash._

"_Oh, just little things," John says. "Nothing somebody who didn't know her well would pick up on. But anyway, that's not my point. What I'd like to know is if you're responsible for her changed emotional state."_

Changed emotional state? Does John think I've gone insane or something? It's not like I'm Nine, constantly living on the border between foolhardiness and sanitorium.

"_I still don't know what you're talking about," Five says, his nervousness now so apparent that I'm surprised he hasn't bolted from the room. "And even if you think there's something different about her, maybe you just don't know her as well as you think you do. Correlation doesn't imply causation, you know."_

"_I think I know her pretty well," John says. "Better than you do, at any rate." _

There's a pregnant pause, leaving me clueless as to what's going on.

"_Perhaps I'm being too subtle," John says, and I imagine him walking around the room, scratching his chin with his forefinger like Crayton used to. "I think that you lied to everybody in the room when you said that you were just an empath. I think that your Legacy extends further than that. I think that not only can you sense people's emotions, you can also influence them and effectively make them do whatever you want."_

Silence. Clearly Five isn't denying what John is saying. So it's true, then? Five lied to us about his Legacies? But then how do I fit into all of this? First John says that I've been acting weird ever since Five showed up, and now he's saying that Five has the Legacy of emotional manipulation. Does John think that Five has been manipulating my emotions? Because that's impossible. Five's a good guy. He would never do something so despicable and underhanded.

"_I notice you're not denying it," John continues, starting to sound more and more like a prosecuting attorney. "So let me put the obvious question out there. Have you been using your Legacies to manipulate Six's emotions ever since you met her?"_

I hold my breath anxiously. Surely Five's going to say no. Because that's got to be the truth. He can't have betrayed me like that.

"_Yes," Five says._

In an instant I feel that same, fierce anger that Sam must have felt not ten minutes ago. The anger of the betrayed. I am Caesar after all. Brutus' knife has found its mark. I want, now, more than anything in the world, to crash through this door, put my hands around Five's neck and squeeze until his face turns blue. I suppose I could just hit him with a lightning bolt, or stab him with a dagger (how ironic would that be?) but using my bare hands would be so much more satisfying. I stay where I am, though. I look up from my position at the door to see Marina's shocked eyes looking back down at me. Her pen drops from her hand, and she makes no move to retrieve it. Evidently she was eavesdropping as well.

"_Because you wanted her to like you, right?" John asks, surprisingly calmly._

"_It wasn't like that, okay?" Five says angrily. "I keep an emotional bubble around me pretty much 24/7. Just a general aura of happiness, nothing malicious. It helps me make friends. People notice they're happier around me, and so they want to spend more time with me. The bubble affects everybody differently- you for example, judging by the colour of your face, aren't affected at all. Six just turned out to be unusually susceptible. Not my fault, okay? I just want people to like me. Is that too much to ask for?"_

"_It isn't too much to ask for," John says quietly. "Just… de-activate that bubble, or whatever it is. You don't need it. You're a likable person already- it would just be overkill."_

"_I will," Five promises. "There's… just one other thing."_

Silence for a moment. Then John speaks:

"_And how exactly are you going to explain that?"_

I look up at Marina. She nods. I open the door and step through. She's right behind me.


	5. The Colsiem

**A/N: So as promised, it was less than a month. I do just want to stress, I will not abandon this story. I know I've been slow updating lately, but I'm always working on the next chapter. I don't normally explicitly ask for reviews, but you guys have been really quiet lately and I'd appreciate it if you'd just let me know if I'm still on the right track with the plotline and the characters. Thanks in advance.**

Four:

The door connecting to Marina and Six's room opens suddenly. Six emerges, and for a second I worry she heard the conversation and has come in to give Five his just desserts. But if that was her intention, she betrays no sign of it. When she sees him she doesn't lunge at him, screaming curses and trying to claw his body to shreds. Instead she looks taken aback by the sight of him, as if she didn't know he was there.

And then I remember, of course. She didn't see what happened.

Marina stands behind Six, looking just as surprised. I follow her eyes to a very bashful-looking Five. Except… he's not Five. Well he is, but just different. He's two or three inches shorter than Five was, and a little less muscular. His skin isn't quite as tan, and his smooth, youthful face has hints of acne. His eyes are dark, a green so deep that in bad light they could be mistaken for black. It's a colour that I've never seen on a human- only the Loric have eyes like that. But the most noticeable difference between him and Five? Five may have never told us his age, but he looked to be around our age- seventeen or eighteen. The guy standing before me can't be any older than fifteen, and maybe not even that. He stares down at the floor, his head bowed.

But he is Five. I know because one second I was talking to the emotion-meddling male model we met in Australia, and the next thing I knew he became somebody else. He shape-shifted. The thought strikes me like a bullet. He assumed his… what? His true shape? Some bizarre alter ego?

"Who are you?" Marina whispers, the sound carrying across the otherwise silent room.

He reaches down and pulls up the leg of his jeans. Three intricate scars lie on his ankle, confirming what I already knew. He's still Five.

"I'm Five," he says. He hesitates for a moment, and then the rest of his thought spills out. "The real Five."

"The real Five?" Six asks, almost apprehensively.

"You already know I'm a shape-shifter," Five says tiredly. "I trust you can put two and two together."

The question that immediately forms on my lips is 'Why?' But it all makes sense now. His strangely perfect looks, his nervousness, his earlier admission about his emotional bubble- it was all just about self-confidence. He felt insecure about meeting up with us, so he tried to use his Legacies to compensate. And looking at him, I can understand more and more why. He's a good two years younger than the rest of us. He ran away like a coward when his mansion was attacked, leaving Alexis to his death. His Legacies aren't particularly useful in combat- as cool as becoming a tiger is, it pales in comparison to most other Master Legacies. He felt out of place with us, so he coped in the only way he new how. He changed himself into somebody who would fit in perfectly.

Looking at Five, and then Six, I make a decision. Five's use of shape-shifting to change his appearance will be plenty embarrassing for him. And since he's agreed to stop his emotional bubble, there's no need to make his day even worse by dragging that out into the open as well.

Five sits on the bed, staring sullenly at the wall. I walk over to Six and Marina, who look understandably confused.

"Why did you two come in here to begin with?" I ask them, trying not to let my worry show.

"We heard raised voices," Six replies tenuously. "It sounded like people arguing over something."

"Oh. No," I say. "We weren't arguing. After Sam and Nine left Five just, like, broke down or something. Shifted into this form and started mumbling an apology. I don't know what could have set him off."

To my relief, Six doesn't question me. She must not have heard most of our conversation. A half-smile forms instead on her face.

"Thanks," she says to me. "I'm feeling better now."

I'm not entirely sure I know what she's talking about, but I can make a decent guess.

"You don't know how glad I am to hear that," I say, earning myself another smile.  
"I'll see you in the morning," Six says before leaving.

I turn to face Five once the girls have gone. To my surprise, he's looking (literally) like his old self again.

"Care to explain?" I ask, sitting down on the desk chair, my back to him.

"Do you think this is easy for me?" he replies. "Not everybody takes being lied to as well as you do."

I shake my head, trying to decide whether or not to be offended. "You're walking a damn thin line."

He ignores me.

Nine and Sam enter the room a heartbeat later, the latter carrying a worn beige blacnket over his shoulder. I swivel to face them.

"You would not believe how bad the customer service in this place is," he says, placing the blanket carefully on the floor. "Took about ten minutes for them to find this thing, and initially they wanted to charge me for it too."

He's looking directly as me as he speaks, his eyes asking an unspoken question. I nod, and in response he gives me a covert thumbs-up. His interference worked.

I lean back in my chair and close my eyes. At least something got resolved today- Six seems fully recovered from having her feelings pushed and pulled around. Five's still on edge though. The only people who know about his disguise are me, Six and Marina. I briefly debate whether to tell Sam in the morning, but I decide against it. He'd probably just encourage me to tell everybody else too, and I don't think that'd be right. We can't afford to have this cause a divide between us (or at least any more of one than it already has) if we want to survive. I have a feeling that Marina and Six won't tell either, meaning that Five will get away with deceiving everybody else. That doesn't seem right either, but I don't see what I could do about it beyond hoping he comes to his senses by himself.

We've got a lot to do tomorrow- turning some of our jewels into money, finding someplace permanent to stay, and maybe finally looking at the other files Crayton left for us. Thankfully, sleep comes quickly.

* * *

I'm standing on Lorien as it used to be. I'm in the park near the government buildings where the Elders used to rule. Memories of time spent here come flooding back towards me like never before as I examine my surroundings. I remember playing here now as a toddler, with a girl my age. Six. I wonder how out lives would have been different if Lorien hadn't been attacked. Would our relationship had developed like our parents had joked, or would we have grown apart without the war to throw us together?

I walk slowly through the park, admiring the beauty of Lorien in a way I was too young to before. The horizon is a blend of both natural plant life and futuristic single-story buildings. I follow the stone path around massive trees that vaguely resemble California redwoods, and through beautifully maintained gardens. But after a while I find myself starting to feel more and more like a rat trapped in a maze. I reach dead ends that aren't in my memories-, which is understandable enough, considering how old my memories are. But when I turn back to go a different way, I swear the intersection looks different from the first time I traversed it. I start to get the sense of being herded somewhere, and the path I'm walking on gets narrower and narrower. I make a left turn, running my hand along a mysteriously appearing hedge. A stone archway stands ominously in front of me, a good thirty feet tall. It seems rather out of place, as the area on the other side seems identical to where I am now, although I notice that the stone path doesn't continue. I step under the archway cautiously, half expecting it to fall on me or something, but nothing happens. I continue walking, but after a couple of steps I feel a strange compulsion to turn back. The stone is smooth for the most part, like marble, but more of a slate-grey colour. I touch my palm to the stone, expecting it to feel cool. It is at first, but then it reacts to my touch by suddenly becoming ridiculously hot, causing me to withdraw my hand. A symbol glows in fiery red on the stone where my hand touched it. It strikes me as familiar, but takes me a while to place. It's the Loric symbol for the number one. I look at the palm of my hand, where an identical copy of the symbol sits, painted in ash. It crumbles away under my gaze. When I look back at the archway, I see that the fire has spread; there are nine flaming symbols now, spaced evenly across its entire surface. There's a sudden sensation in the pit of my stomach like I'm free-falling, distracting me from deciphering the symbols. I blink. The symbols have stopped glowing, but the space underneath the archway has filled in with the same stone, leaving me facing a dead end. Something weird is going on here. I turn around, only to find once again that my surroundings have changed. I stand at the edge of a massive, circular stone arena that extends up fifty feet or more. Hexagonal pillars are dotted around its perimeter, each one crowned with a golden ornament shaped like a bullseye. The floor underneath my feet is soft, like sand, but one continuous surface. It too is decorated with the pattern of concentric circles that resembles a dartboard. The walls of the arena extend up higher than the horizon, meaning that all I can see around me is stone and sky. I start to feel vaguely claustrophobic, even though I'm usually not. The walls are also completely smooth and unnaturally circular, much like the archway was. I walk slowly towards the center of the arena, counting the rings as I go. There are nine – somehow I'm not surprised. I come to a stop at the edge of the very central one, which is roughly ten feet wide. What is this place? It reminds me a bit of the Coliseum in Rome, but this is much more grand. And empty. I look back over my shoulder towards the way I came- the archway has filled in completely, blending seamlessly with the rest of the perimeter. There are no discernable exits at all, in fact, which causes my newfound feelings of claustrophobia to worsen. When I turn back around, a woman has appeared on the other side of the circle, directly opposite me. She has long, wavy red hair, and carries a wooden staff in her hand. She is ageless- something in her eyes suggests decades of experience, but she doesn't look any older than twenty. A staff identical to the one she carries lies on the ground between us.

"Where am I?" I ask, hoping she'll be able to give me an answer.

"The Colsiem," she replies curtly. Her voice is rough and scratchy, as if it hadn't been used for a long time. It seems like she wants to keep it that way.

"Which is..?" I press.

She sighs. "It's what it looks like. An arena."

"And why exactly am I here?"

She smiles predatorily. "Because I brought you with me. But that's enough questions for now."

She waves her free hand, and the staff on the ground floats gently towards me. I grasp it firmly with my right hand, slightly surprised by its heaviness.

"Wait," I say. "Who are _you_?"

"I don't like to repeat myself," she warns. Then she takes two quick steps towards me and swings the staff at me. My instincts kick in and I twist away from the blow, just managing to get my own staff up to block. She moves with superhuman agility, rebounding from my parry and sweeping the staff low, at my legs. I leap over it and swipe at her exposed body, but she ducks inside the reach of my staff and uses hers to poke me lightly in the chest, causing me to stagger backwards. I no longer have any doubts about her age- there's no way anybody not at their physical peak would be able to move that quickly. I fall into a recovery position, holding my staff out in front of me one-handed, like a fencer. She holds hers oddly, in the middle instead of at one end like me.

"I thought you were a fighter," she says, twirling the staff and taking a step towards me. "Show me that you want to win this."

She lashes out at me again, but I'm prepared. I duck quickly under the blow and bring the staff down in an arc aimed squarely at her head. She moves impossibly quickly, blocking, but I continue to stay on the offensive, forcing her backwards with a flurry of blows. I manage to force her back to the edge of the second ring, a good twenty feet, when she suddenly shifts the staff so that she blocks my attack with one end and slams the other into my shoulder, knocking me to the ground. I get up warily, backing away to a safe distance.

"Why are you losing?" she asks. "Aren't you supposed to be one of the strongest Garde ever? Haven't you slayed hundreds of Mogadorians with both hands tied behind your back?"

"I'm doing my best," I say defensively.

"I'm not arguing that," she says. "What I'm asking is, why is my best so much better than yours?"

"Because you've got more experience," I say. "You're older than I am."

"True," she says thoughtfully.

There's silence for a moment, and I realize she's waiting for another answer.

"You're also a lot faster than I am," I say. "It's hard to go on the offensive when you can block all of my attacks easily."

"I'm not faster than you are," she says. "I'm just in better shape. From the looks of things you haven't been doing much hand-to-hand training lately. Let me guess- you just discovered your Master Legacy, and you're just basking in the glory of torching your way through battles."

Her logic is hard to argue with. I have been neglecting my training, but to be fair, I've been pretty busy running from motel to motel trying to avoid the cops.

"So since we've established that I'm a more experienced fighter than you are," she says, "does it stand to reason that I'm more likely than you are to know how to hold a staff properly?"

I look down at my hand at the end of the staff, and then at hers, which sits comfortably in the middle. I can see how she would get more speed that way, but it seems like she'd be sacrificing some of her strength and reach. I shift my hand up anyway, as I have the feeling that she's not the sort of person that it's wise to argue with.

"Ready?" she asks.

I nod, and strike first, stepping in and angling my staff at her side. I think I catch her by surprise, as she is forced to step back awkwardly to block the attack. I'm able to follow up with a quicker second attack thanks to my new grip, and I land a blow on her shoulder, my first of the fight. She betrays no sign of pain, counter-attacking with a swing at my head. I block it and our staves lock with an audible thunk. I plant my feet and push as hard as I can, trying to force her backwards, but she pushes back with equal strength. Our eyes meet across the staves and she winks at me before sweeping my legs out from underneath me with a well-placed kick. I crash heavily to the ground, but it cushions my fall to the point where it barely hurts.

"That was a cheap shot," I say as I get up, still surprised at how little the fall hurt.

She cocks an eyebrow. "Last time I checked, you do anything you can to win a fight to the death."

"We're not fighting to the death though," I protest.

"Not yet," she says. I certainly hope she's kidding.

"That's probably enough fighting for today," she says, snapping her fingers. I'm gripping my staff tightly, but it simply vanishes at her command, leaving me holding empty air. "You fought well though, and I've always thought that a good fight deserves some answers. You asked earlier about the Colsiem. It's more than an arena- it's the main area of the Garde Training Grounds. It's used mostly for hand-to-hand combat, because the floor- as you had ample opportunity to discover- cushions falls quite nicely. You and your Cèpan would have started training in here once you turned thirteen- if Lorien hadn't been attacked, of course."

I've never heard of the Garde Training Grounds before, but I take her word for it. There must be a lot of things I don't know about Lorien, including this.

"So… why are we here, then?" I ask.

"To train, of course. Setràkus Ra isn't just going to roll over for you and let you stab him through the heart, you know."

She taps her staff on the ground, and immediately my surroundings grow blurry. I must be starting to wake up.

"Wait!" I say. "You still haven't told me who you are."

"I know."

And then everything fades to black.

* * *

When I open my eyes the sun is streaming through the open drapes, which is no doubt what awakened me. There's no sign of the others, so I walk over to the connecting door and knock on it. A groggy-looking Marina opens it a couple of seconds later, yawning.

"What is it, John?" she asks.

"Do you know where everybody went?" I ask. "I'm the only one in here."

"They headed down to scout out the parking lot, I think," she says. "Do you want me to go check on them?"

"That's okay," I say. "I was just wondering."

"No problem," she says, closing the door gently.

Sam and Nine come through the main door a second later, Five trailing just behind them.

"So what's the scouting report?" I ask.

"The parking lot's filled with them," Nine says. "They've surrounded the entire place at about a fifty-foot perimeter. There must be a good five hundred of them, but thankfully not Elites. No piken either, probably due to the trick you pulled last time."

"Woah!" I say. "Whatever happened to their being subtle?"

"I guess they got sick of letting us get away whenever there were too many people around," Sam says. "Speaking of which, it's only a matter of time before somebody notices them out there and starts down panic. We've got to get down there ASAP."

I nod. "Makes sense. We'll head down now, draw them away, and finish them off someplace away from here."

"I'll go round up everybody else," Five offers. "You guys can start without me- we'll follow in the truck."

"Of course we can," I mutter under my breath.

It's a good plan, though. The Mogs have no way of knowing which truck is ours, and they can't have bugged them all. Once we draw them away, it'll be easy for the others to hop in and meet up with us. We jog down the hall and into the lobby, not entirely sure what to expect. The lobby is mostly empty, but there are a few clumps of people talking quietly and gesturing frantically at the window. They must have seen something. I still can't believe the Mogs are dragging this out into the open- I thought we had a sort of agreement that this wasn't Earth's fight. I make my way to the window and look out. Nine was right- the lot is filled with them. I double-check that Nine and Sam are with me and then I charge through the door and across the lot, heading straight for them. They start to fire on me immediately, so I activate my telekinesis and push the bullets to the side. Nine taps Sam on the forehead, and they start to do the same. There's a barricade of cars piled up next to each other at the end of the lot, presumably to stop us from escaping. I almost feel insulted. I let the flames engulf my body and shape them into a rod not unlike one used for pole vaulting, and leap the barrier easily. Nine simply jumps it, showing off his physical ability, and I pull Sam over with my telekinesis. We charge away from them at top speed, and sure enough they follow us. We run for about a minute, looking back regularly to make sure we're being followed, and then we veer off of the road and into a farmer's field. The flat ground isn't ideal, but it seems deserted enough here that nobody will see what's going on.

The three of us come to a stop, turning to pace our pursuers. A black wave approaches us, a good thirty Mogs wide and twenty deep. I take a deep breath.

"Time to show these guys just what they're messing with?" I ask Nine.

"You bet," he says.

And then we charge forward to meet them.

I instinctively shape the flames around me into a whip and shield, but then I change my mind. Maybe it's time to try something new. I form them instead into a long pole, which I grasp firmly in its centre. I might as well get some practice in.

Nine tosses Sam a long knife as we run, which he wields expertly. He draws his telescoping pole and starts swinging it with a fury as we crash into the front line of Mogs. I wade directly into the middle of the battle, swinging my weapon quickly and precisely, doing just enough damage to drop each soldier before moving to the next. A bolt of lightning strikes just to the left of me, hitting Nine with a tremendous boom. He glows a bright silvery-blue, a huge smile on his face.

"Now that's more like it," he says.

My eyes search out Six as Nine starts felling Mogs with arcs of electricity. I find her almost immediately, at the other side of the field, engaged in combat with the back end of the Mog force. Eight, Marina, Sarah and Ella are with her, the latter two fighting back-to-back. I'm moderately surprised at how well Sarah handles herself, but I guess I shouldn't be anymore- she's proven she knows how to use a knife.

As I make my way forward towards the others, some Mogs start to veer away from me, wary of the fire I wield. I'm so used to fighting with Six at my side that I let them go, figuring she'll take care of them. But, of course, she's a battlefield away.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a sword come swinging towards me from behind. I try to twist out of the way, but it's too late. I was caught off guard. Then suddenly it's parried by, of all things, a pair of antlers. A massive buck stands behind me, impaling Mogs with its antlers. Then it shifts into a sleek leopard that pounces on its enemies, pinning them to the ground before delivering the deathblow. For a split-second I meet its gaze, trying to convey some measure of thanks. It nods its head in response.

With the rest of the gang here, we finish off the Mog army quickly. We stand in a field that's coated with a thick layer of ash. I use my telekinesis to scoop all of the ash up and pile it in one corner out of the respect for the farmer. Although we still kind of trashed his field.

"That was fun," I say to the group, letting the flames die away. Nine still glows a faint blue, and the rest of us just look exhausted. It's not easy fighting battles this early in the morning.

"What now?" Eight asks.

"We were talking about this last night," Six says. "We need to cash in some of our gems and then find someplace to stay. And we should really do some training as well- it's been a while for most of us."  
"We should probably split up, then," Ella suggests. "We could get everything done a lot quicker."

"So who wants to go house-hunting then?" I ask.

"I think us girls should do it," Sarah says. "Our senses of style are far better than yours."

"Can't argue that," Sam says. "Should we meet back here in a couple of hours?"

I lock eyes with Six across the group. I really don't want to leave her again after finally having sorted all the Five stuff out.

"Won't we need some people to review the files that Crayton left for us too?" I say. "There might be some really important stuff there that we'll need to know before we do anything else."

"Yea, I guess," Marina says. "Why- do you want to do it?"

"I'm not really much of a pawn shop guy, to be honest, and I'm really curious about what's on there. I'd need some help though."

I look at Six as I speak, hoping she'll get my message.

"I'm not really feeling up to looking at houses myself," Six says. "We could probably get through the files pretty quickly if we worked together."

Now that everything's been settled the others leave, which means it's just me, Six, a computer filled with information about Lorien, and an open field. Sounds like paradise to me.


End file.
